Since the guy doesn't have a shirt to grab onto, Owen circles his fingers around the man’s throat and shoves him down ontothe slippery bartop so hard I’m surprised the back of his head doesn't split the wood.
“Listen to me, motherfucker,” Owen seethes. “If youeverlay a hand on her again, you’ll be fucking fish food instead of flopping around in a pool like a pathetic old man. You got that?”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Owen is losing his damn mind right now. Because ofme. Which is deeply inconvenient because it’s turning me on more than it should.
“That’s it,” the bartender says, “I’m calling Security.”
“No,” I rush out, pleading with the bartender. “Please don’t. This man was harassing me. He… I told himnomultiple times, and then he reached his hand under the water and grabbed me. Please, just let me get my friend out of here. He’s just trying to defend me.”
The bartender looks at me, his eyes narrowing before he gives me a quick nod. “Get him out of here. Right now, before I have no choice but to call Security.”
Thank God.
I move fast, pressing my chest against Owen’s back and wrapping my arm around his waist. The skin-to-skin contact seems to calm him as his shoulders finally ease up and relax.
“Owen,” I whisper calmly, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Please, let’s just go. I want to go.”
As if I’ve tamed a beast, he sucks in a deep breath through his nostrils and loosens his grip. When the man goes to sit up, Owen shoves the man down once more, hard enough to make the message clear.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” he threatens. “This is your only warning.”
The bartender points toward the exit and looks directly at me. “Get him out of here. Now.”
I don’t argue. I just need to get Owen the hell away from this man before he murders him.
I keep my arms around Owen as we leave, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest with adrenaline and a newfound sense of safety.
Safe.
What an odd word to describe the way I feel right now.
Because even through the fear and the mayhem, one truth is impossible to ignore.
No one has ever stood up for me like that before.Protectedme like that.
And that realization rattles my world just as hard as the confrontation itself.
TEN
Owen
When we make it back to the suite, I throw my towel onto the couch and drag my palm down my jaw, my teeth clenched so hard they ache. My hands are still shaking from how close I came to drowning that bastard.
I’ve stood on a field in packed college stadiums, surrounded by tens of thousands of screaming fans. I’ve felt the bone-deep rush of fourth-quarter pressure, the kind that shakes you to your core and sharpens every instinct you have.
But none of that comes close to this.
The second that piece of shit touched Meadow, sliding his hand up her leg like he had a right to, I fucking saw red. Pure, blinding rage. My vision tunneled, my anger wiping away every rational thought.
One second, I was standing at the bar, and the next, I had his head under water.
Not thinking. Not breathing. Just reacting.
He’s lucky Meadow calmed me down, stopping me from shoving his ass back under.
I’ve never blacked out like that before. Never felt something snap so ruthlessly inside me to the point where it scared me afterward.
